


sanctus

by BuckyVaRog



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Eames Is Dead, Fluff, M/M, Magical, Major Character Undeath, but also not?, ghost - Freeform, kind of, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyVaRog/pseuds/BuckyVaRog
Summary: Arthur thinks he's seen the last of EamesThe forger shows up in a way he never thought possible





	

The news of Eames' death had been mildly shocking. Arthur had received a phone call from Cobb, presuming Arthur would actually care. Truthfully, he did. Eames had been one of the best, if not _the_ best, forger currently in their business. Also, he put up with Arthur. Seemed to enjoy his company at times.  
  
"How'd it happen?" He found himself asking, even genuinely wondering.  
  
"You know Eames, pissed off the wrong guy, got himself shot."  
  
"Right," Arthur cleared his throat around an embarrassing lump. "Thanks for letting me know, I suppose."  
  
"Of course," His tinny breath rattled Arthur. "You know it's okay to be upset. I could tell how much you meant to each other, I think it's safe to say it out loud now." If Cobb didn't sound so fucking _sympathetic_ he definitely would have sounded smug.  
  
"Cobb, I have no idea what you're talking about, and I'd rather not." He quickly hung up the phone, hands shaking.

He went about making a cup of coffee too strong and caffeinated for the time of night. As soon as he took a sip he regretted it.

Arthur's stomach churned as he thought about moving from his spot, rooted at the counter in front of a well loved coffee pot. His hands shook a bit more now as his chest was coiling tight, gut hurting.

He tried to reason with himself; he had lost plenty of people, why was it different now?

He knew why.

Because even if he was able to remain cool and collected in almost any situation he was sentimental. The dusty books that lined his only legitimate apartment's bookshelves showed the truth of that. Eames had been there for some of the most ridiculous jobs.

 _Most of them ending in disaster,_ Arthur thought with a wry grin.

So, after a day of mourning his friend he moved on with his life. It felt weird when he took jobs and immediately thought he could call Eames on it, someone he actually trusted, only to remember said man was unavailable. Permanently.

For months he only thought of Eames on occasion: when someone would ask to bring him in, when he saw something that was reminiscent of the man's terrible gambling problem, even spotting a garish pair of trousers. 

It was exactly six months after Eames' death when it happened. 

"You look just as tense as I last remember."

Arthur started so hard he dropped his mug of coffee, the ceramic shattering and hot liquid covering half of the small kitchen linoleum.

It was an odd voice, so familiar yet sounding echoey, like being trapped in a large box with nothing to obstruct the sound waves from bouncing endlessly. 

He was afraid to move towards the voice, afraid he'd truly lost it this time. 

After several long minutes, softer this time, "At least turn around," 

So Arthur did. He turned around towards the voice of a man he thought he'd never see again.

"What the fuck." He couldn't help it. The man was mostly see-through, but Arthur was sure if he could see, the forger's button down would be an obnoxious salmon, baggy dress pants a shiny grey. The textures alone wouldn't match. He gaped and gaped and  _gaped_ , for what felt like hours before the image of Eames grinned.

"Oh good, you can see me." The man looked down at himself. His  _barely there_ body.

"I've fucking lost it haven't I?" Arthur found it impossible to move a single muscle, chest rising surprisingly fast.

"As amusing as this could be, Arthur, I don't want you to have a panic attack." The mirage of Eames frowned, walking, no  _floating,_ closer to Arthur, arm outstretched like he wanted to comfort the man.

"What the fuck?" He repeated, voice cracking at the end. He vaguely started to feel the spilled coffee seeping through his socks, snapping him into action with a curse.

He grabbed a whole roll of paper towels and got down on his hands and knees to soak up as much liquid as he could.

"Arthur, I died," 

Arthur's breath hitched in his throat.

"Fuck," He whispered, never ceasing in his attempt at cleaning up.

"Arthur," Mirage-Eames repeated. Because that's what he was, Arthur decided. A mirage. "Arthur, I'm a ghost."

He almost felt like laughing at the absurdity. Instead he looked back up, the 'ghost' hovering anxiously. He knew Eames' tells, he knew what the man looked like when he was nervous or scared or angry. 

"What?" Arthur fell back onto his behind, already used up paper towels laying on the ground forgotten. "H-how even-?"

His eyebrows knitted together aggressively, mouth a firm line to keep from shaking.

Eames looked conflicted for a second before swooping closer, the air around Arthur immediately chilling so much he actually shivered. 

"I'm not actually sure about that detail, darling," Ghost-Eames chuckled quietly, voice reverberating strangely.

Arthur shook his head slightly. "How do you not know how you-you turned into an actual  _ghost_?" 

"Well, you see," Eames floated--and fuck that would take some getting used to--even closer to Arthur, bending at the knees to be on eye level. His voice was softer then, like before. "I was dead one moment, and in the next, I was in some kind of...in between." His intangible eyes seemed distant, as if remembering.

"I'll tell you, the in-between was not a lovely place, lots of unsightly things there, but I was able to find a few others in my situation." Eames smiled fondly. Arthur knew that look, it usually being thrown his way when the former forger thought he wasn't looking. 

The ghost continued. "They told me how to materialise myself, taught me how to get through the dimensions," His fingers twirled in front of his devilish grin. "I wasn't sure if it would work, but Jesus, I tried for long enough didn't I?"

Arthur decided he needed a nap. "I need a nap," Leaving the mess on the floor he stiffly rose and made his way to the master bedroom.

"You've just gotten up! Arthur, keep me company, I've had nothing but demons and old folk to chat up for centuries."

That got Arthur to stop, right at the edge of his bed. "You were only gone for six months, Eames, don't be dramatic."

Without turning around Arthur could hear the grin in Eames' ringing voice. "There's the Arthur I know."

It actually almost got the point man to smile through his fried nerves. 

"Eames," He folded back the edges of his comforter to slide under the blankets before pulling them up to his chin. "This isn't possible, there's no such thing as ghosts, you can't be here,"

"But I am, darling," Eames smiled crookedly, rising almost to the ceiling only to drift slowly so it looked like he was laying directly over Arthur.

"You're not," He felt childish the way he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the translucent image of his dead friend would disappear. 

"I am," It was whispered but enough to startle a sob out of his chest. 

"I'm fucking crazy aren't I? I didn't even miss you that much at first-" Eames scoffed. "Maybe I was just kidding myself-" Arthur sniffled pitifully.

"Oh, darling," But Eames didn't say anything else, and Arthur didn't open his eyes, eventually drifting off to sleep.

XXXX

When Arthur woke back up the ghost wasn't there, further solidifying in his mind that he had absolutely lost it.

It was dark out by now, his sleeping pattern mucked up. 

He felt wide awake, lying there looking out of the large window across the room. The city skyline was beautiful in Los Angeles, even through the smog, and the lack of stars almost calmed him at that point.

Walking through his apartment he was reminded of the mess in the kitchen. The coffee was sticky on the floor now, paper towels feeling like sandpaper. 

He sighed, going back to cleaning up. It didn't take long but it felt like forever. Especially when he thought about exactly why it was here.

His phone's blaring ringtone interrupted his musings just as he'd thrown the last bit of porcelain away. 

Rinsing off his hands he grabbed the burner cell off of the kitchen table, answering without checking the caller ID.

"Yes?" He answered gruffly. 

"Arthur," Ariadne's voice sounded strained. He was instantly worried. "Why, in the name of all things holy, is there a ghost in my house claiming to be Eames?"

Immediately the tense lines of Arthur's shoulders loosened, only for a deep frown to set on his face.

"What?" He rubbed a hand over his forehead.

"It said it saw you last night,"

Arthur thought he heard a voice, vibrating but similar, in the background though he couldn't make out what it said.

"Alright,  _he_ says _he's_ not an 'it', my apologies ghost Eames."

Even Arthur is surprised by the manic laugh that leaves his mouth. "What the fuck? I thought I was going crazy, are you telling me he is a legitimate ghost?" 

Ariadne hummed, and Arthur imagined her doing that adorable thing with her mouth, lips twisting.

"I guess? I mean, it seems legit? He's here isn't he?"

Arthur huffed. "Ghosts aren't real,"

"Hang on-Eames, wait a second-okay, Arthur, you're on speaker, say that again."

Arthur almost growled. "Ghosts aren't real,"

He thought he heard Eames gasp. "Arthur, how dare you," Yep, Eames gasped.

"There's no way," Arthur said weakly.

"Where there's a will there's a way." Again, he could hear the grin in Eames' voice. 

Arthur felt something catch in his chest, eyes stinging. "I don't know how it's possible..."

"Some things can't be explained, Arthur," 

The way Eames said his name, much closer to 'are-thou' than the actual pronunciation, endeared him ridiculously.

"Only you would find a way to manifest into an actual ghost," It sounded wet, too much emotion on display for Ariadne also being on the other end, but he didn't care. 

Arthur heard a sniffle. "You jerks are gonna make me cry."

Arthur choked out a laugh, and he thought he heard Eames too.

XXXX

When Arthur woke up the next morning it was to see Eames floating just above the comforter next to him, eyes set out the window.

Even with his face smooshed into his pillow, eyes crusted with sleep, Arthur managed to grumble, "What the fuck are you doing here, Eames?"

"I can only haunt places that hold something of mine from when I was alive."  
  
"That doesn't explain why you're here,"  
  
Eames tsked, crossing his ankles at the foot of his bed. "The better question is, how? Have you forgotten?"  
  
Arthur felt like Eames wanted to tell him something, of course going about it in a completely Eames way. He racked his mind for a moment before remembering with a start.  
  
"You mean that stupid fucking book you gave me? That was from like, the first job we did together, back on oh-six," He smiled sleepily, visualising the old cover. It wasn't exactly old, but instead worn out from so much usage. It was truly his favourite, though he would never tell Eames that.  
  
Eames laughed, "It doesn't matter how old it is, it was still mine, something for a part of my soul to latch onto."  
  
Arthur realised something. "What about Ariadne, what does she have of yours?"  
  
Eames sighed, restlessly moving his translucent fingers. "My totem," It felt heavy. "She was on the job, there when I died."

Arthur suddenly felt wide awake, turning on his side and facing the ghost. He hadn't known that Eames had died actually working a job, much less that Ariadne had been there.

"It was actually easier to latch on to at first, but...I wanted to see you." It sounded raw, something in Arthur's chest reaching out and clawing at his insides. Before he could respond Eames sighed heavily, floating through the bed, disappearing completely.

After that, whenever he was in his apartment, Arthur was fairly used to Eames just popping in and out, there-but-not-there body floating in and out of space at will.

They didn't talk much. Eames would just hover while Arthur worked, or ate, or read, and Arthur would let him. Because it was too weird with him being around, but it was even weirder when he wasn't.

XXXX

After six months of being away on a job Eames finally had something to say.

Arthur shoved a pillow over his head to try and block out Eames' prattling.  
  
"I will kill you," His muffled voice seemed to amuse Eames, because the ghost gave a soft coo.  
  
"Darling, I'm already dead."

A few months ago that would have made Arthur's chest clench, now he just wished he could still strangle the man.

"Please, Eames, I'm exhausted, I just want to sleep," Arthur could practically feel the bags under his pleading eyes.

"Oh, come on," Eames stood cheekily over Arthur at his bedside, somehow making his hands disappear into his pockets. "Just give me  _something_ interesting from the job, I do so miss being able to pull off heists."

Arthur groaned, taking a moment before rolling over and off the bed, nearly going straight through Eames' form. 

"Goody! We moving this to the kitchen? Watching you eat is like a form of voyeurism for me, absolutely addicting."

Arthur huffed out a laugh, instead moving to his still packed luggage case. He threw the dirty garments into his hamper, pulling more clean things out of the closet. He thought about changing but really he just needed to sleep, he needed to get out of here. Instead he threw open his curtains, letting the midday sunlight shine in and warm his room.

"I'm going to Cobb's,"

"Darling?" The pet name grated on Arthur's fried nerves.

"Don't 'darling' me, Eames, not when you're being an insufferable asshole." It's not nearly as harsh as he wished it were.

He heard Eames sigh at his back. "You're really going to  _Cobb_ of all people?"

"He's my brother-in-law, I have to deal with him." Arthur finally turned around, standing up with his luggage in tow. His body felt so tired he wasn't sure if he'd even be able to drive the fifteen minutes to Dom's.

"Mal is dead, love,"

"But Pippa and James are still my family."

Arthur's eyes widened as he realised something. "You didn't see Mal while you were in the in-between did you?"

Eames' face turned sympathetic. "No, I would have told you." 

Arthur nodded, resolutely. "Anyways," He gestured with his suitcase to the bedroom doorway before walking through it and out the front door.

XXXX

"Listen, I know it sounds crazy-"  
  
"Arthur, it sounds impossible."

Arthur made a disgruntled face, finding that ironic. "I promise it's not, I haven't gotten any _sleep_."  
  
And now that Cobb really looked he could see the dark circles underneath the young man's eyes, hair a little less perfectly placed than usual, suit a little more wrinkled than Arthur would normally deem acceptable.

"Okay, you can sleep here for a little while," Dom sighed, "But if he..." His fingers wiggled in front of Arthur's face a bit. "Appears, you're both out,"

Arthur sighed gratefully, throwing his brother-in-law a weary smile as he showed himself to the guest bedroom. It didn't take him long to fall asleep once his head hit the pillow.

XXXX

"Oh, honey, you're home!" Eames sounded irritated. 

"Now that I've gotten a good night's sleep," Arthur felt better; he was at least put together now, hair and clothes neatly in place.

"Will you share some details now that you're not in such a pissy mood?" Eames had floated into the kitchen already, looking as if he would start coffee if able to. Arthur found that uncomfortably domestic. He didn't let it show, instead adorning a scowl to battle Eames' sickeningly sweet smile. 

"Eames, just because I wanted to  _rest_ doesn't mean I was in a pissy mood, it means I was  _tired._ " 

"The one time I break the silence and all I get is the cold shoulder, how very like you." The sneer in his voice sounds bizarre as the tinny quality echoes.

"I did not give you the cold shoulder!"

"You moved where I couldn't follow, love, I'm pretty sure that qualifies!"

And in that moment, Arthur realised that he was stood in his kitchen, arguing with a ghost. Not just that, but Eames still found a way to sneak in pet names, no matter the context. Manic laughter took barely another second to bubble hysterically out of his chest. 

Eames looked wholly unimpressed.

"Something I said  _funny_ to you?"

"No-" Arthur tried, leaning against the kitchen's island. "No--I just--we--" He attempted to catch his breath, eyes watering as he thought maybe he _didn't_ get enough sleep.

"Big words, Arthur," Eames' voice was softer then, irritated frown twitching up with his eyebrows. 

Finally, all Arthur could do was grin stupidly at the transparent man in front of him. "We were just arguing, as if we were a _couple_ , and you're a ghost, and I really think I need to sleep another twelve years."

Eames actually grinned back. "Then who else would I talk to?"

Arthur ignored the fact that they hadn't actually spoken much in all of the time Eames had been around lately. Instead he pointed out, "What about Ariadne?"

The forger sighed dramatically, floating a bit to give the illusion of sitting on the counter. "She's lovely company, even with the additional  _prodding_ questions." He said it accusatory, as if Ariadne were there to be charged guilty.

Arthur snorted, rubbing at his eyes for any errant tears. "I can only imagine, that innocent exterior must have an entirely nefarious interior."

Eames gaped, like he couldn't believe Arthur would second guess him. "I'll have you know she's a sneaky little minx." 

The point man shook his head a bit as he made his way to the bedroom. It was warm with the sun basking in, making Arthur just stand there a moment to enjoy it. 

"I want to go to the beach," He found himself saying.

" _You?_ Go to the  _beach_ _?"_

Arthur turned only his head to see Eames behind him, the ghost's eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

"My mother used to take me when I was younger, it's always felt a little bit like home."

Eames looked surprised. "What about all of the sand?" He had gone soft again, grin teasing. "Won't it get in all of those  _spectacular_ suits of yours?"

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up as Eames' pale eyes looked him over. He cleared his throat pointedly. "I'll have you know I look great in a bathing suit."

Eames' grin turned predatory. "Oh I'm sure of it, darling."

The other man was embarrassed further as the flush reached down to his neck, and Jesus, he hadn't blushed since he was a teenager.

"That's why I want to come with you,"

He startled, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Aren't I always?" Eames said it innocently enough, but his grin was still cheeky.

Arthur flopped back onto his bed, burying the side of his face into the pillow. "In case you forgot your current predicament, you're a  _ghost_ , you can't just walk around."

Eames tsked. "Have _you_ forgotten?" It felt so familiar he could have sworn his life was on loop.

It took a minute to click but, "That book?" Arthur moved his head to speak clearer. "Are you telling me that if I brought the book with me to the beach, you'd be able to, what, trail behind?"

"Well, as nice as that view may be, I was thinking I'd just walk along side you," Arthur ignored his comment entirely.

"Eames, would that really work?"

"In theory, yes, but I haven't tried it with Ariadne yet."

Arthur sat up, feeling his hair frazzle. "She knows about this?"

Eames took a moment to smile fondly at him before hovering so close goosebumps rose over Arthur's skin. "She wanted to take me to the supermarket,"

Arthur tried very hard not to, really, but eventually dissolved into giggles, falling back onto his bed. "Why in the world would she want to take you to the supermarket?"

When he turned his head it was to see Eames floating on his side as if laying down. He felt warm, even with Eames' close proximity chilling him to the bone. "I haven't the faintest clue, though I imagine it was for some of my stellar cooking tips, the sweet girl really can't cook to save her life."

Arthur laughed again. "So, how does the whole anchor-item thing work? How do you move from my place to Ariadne's?"

This stumped Eames for a moment, face drawn in concentration as he tried to find the right way to explain it. "I'm not...entirely sure, I just...think of my totem, or The Complete Works of Allen Ginsberg," He grinned slightly. "And then I feel myself de-materialise, only to re-materialise near the object."

Arthur hummed, eyes moving over Eames' translucent face. He didn't completely understand, but he thought he understood enough to have faith Eames' theory would work. 

"You do realise most people don't have a ghost attached to their hip."

Arthur thought, if Eames were alive, his deep chuckle would be enough to rattle the whole bed. 

"Just another thing to set you apart, darling."

Arthur frowned. "What's the other thing?"

"Your  _killer_ summer bod', of course!"

Arthur cringed, truly hiding his face away this time. "You're the worst, Eames, why do I keep you around?"

"Because," Goosebumps rose over the back of Arthur's neck, as if the other man's breath had actually been there. "You know you'd be bored without me."

Arthur hated that it was true, so he merely rolled over to squint petulantly up at the ghost, as if he wasn't a thirty-two year old man but instead a toddler.

"As long as you don't disrupt any more of my sleep we won't have a problem." Maybe he really was a toddler.

Eames looked mock solemn, but Arthur could see the truth in every twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Cross my heart, hope to die,"

He couldn't have stopped his hard eye-roll even if he tried.

XXXX

Arthur was donned in a pair of swim trunks, bright colours working to counteract the dull sand he now sat in. Perched on his knee was The Complete Works of Allen Ginsberg, distractedly reading a few lines before looking around, waiting to spot Eames.

They had decided not to try out their theory that night, but instead the next morning, bright and early, so no one would really be around. There were only a few early risers, mostly teens left over from that night's party. Five in the morning wasn't usually when the families strolled in.

Arthur was thankful for that fact when he hissed as a chill ran down his spine. He didn't have to look up to know Eames was hovering close.

"Darling," Eames purred close to his ear. "I've never seen you in so much colour before."

A breeze swept through, making him shiver and his teeth chatter slightly as he chuckled. "It's the only time you'll see me in so much colour, Mr. Eames."

Finally he looked up, Eames floating a bit behind him, legs crossed. 

Eames looked expectant. "Well go on then, get in the water," The creases around Eames' eyes twitched, like he was trying hard not to smile fondly. 

Arthur huffed, dropping the book of poems down near the ghost before pulling off his thread-bare t-shirt. He looked out over the ocean, breathing with the tides for a moment. Sighing, he turned back at Eames.

"Would you be able to make it all the way down to the water?"

"I'm not sure," He squints out at the horizon. "I can move around your entire apartment, which is fairly large, so I don't see why not." The ghost shrugged, floating up a little to get his feet underneath him. Eames rarely pretended to actually walk around Arthur's apartment. He would just hover above things, let himself defy the gravity that trapped the living.

Arthur waited to walk down to the water until Eames was beside him. They walked slowly, as if afraid at any moment Eames would be violently thrown back to the book. Sand crept up between each of Arthur's toes, grating on soft skin and inching its way up his calves. It took at least two whole minutes before they were standing--and hovering--just so the water could lick at Arthur's feet. The salt was strong as it mixed with sand and aquatic life, reminding Arthur distinctly of home. He took a big breath before letting it out with a smile. 

He turned to look at the ghost, calm washing through his chest. Eames wasn't looking though Arthur knew he could see him staring. Morning sun shone right through him, hitting the sand in bright in beams. Maybe Eames' body could be used like a prism.

"You look beautiful," He hadn't meant to say that. Absolutely not. Arthur felt his cheeks colour as Eames' head whipped around, cheeky grin already wide on his face.

"You're not so bad yourself,"

He bit down a grin, face still hot as he turned back to the horizon. 

Maybe it was the breeze, but a chill ran through his hand.

XXXX

"Can you turn the page, love?"

Arthur made a noise. "I'm not done with it yet, Eames."

The ghost sighed, hovering closer to the other man over the back of the couch. So close Arthur got waves of goosebumps over his arms and chest.  "This would be much eas-"

His phone ringing in the next room cut him off. He set the book down quickly, considerately turning the page for Eames, and went to retrieve his cell.

"Yes?"

"You've really gotta get a new greeting." Ariadne sounded out of breath.

"Are you okay?"

She 'pfft'ed. "I'm fine you worry wart, I'm just calling to see how Eames is, he hasn't been around here lately." Now  _she_  wasthe one sounding worried.

"Well..." Arthur didn't know how to respond. He scratched the back of his head. "He's fine I guess? I've been at my place for the last couple weeks, he hasn't really left my side."

"My ears are burning, darling," Eames yelled from the other room, probably loud enough for Ariadne to hear.

"Why am I not surprised," Ariadne grumbled, still breathing a little too heavily.

"Ariadne, are you sure you're okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I just got out of the gym."

Arthur shook his head a bit, side of his mouth quirking up.

"Put her on speaker," Arthur hadn't noticed Eames floating in the doorway.

"He wants me to put you on speaker,"

"Oh-" He switched it to speaker before she could finish. "I've been meaning to ask him for some recipes."

"Dear, even with the recipes I'm not sure you would be able to cook them."

They heard her gasp on the other end. "Eames, I can't believe your complete lack of faith in me."

"Don't worry, Arthur would too if he'd seen what I had."

"It wasn't that bad," She grumbled halfheartedly.

"Please tell me you didn't actually make the poor girl eat it," Eames actually looked worried now, staring hard at the phone in Arthur's hand.

It took Ariadne a moment, but she finally huffed a response. "No, I got take-out."

"Oh thank goodness," Eames breathed, placing a hand over where his heart might have been.

"This all seems a little dramatic," Arthur gave Eames a pointed look.

"No, really, darling, if only you saw that mess."

"Eames!" Ariadne was laughing though.

"Tell you what, come on over and show Arthur what  _masterpiece_ you can come up with."

Arthur was about to protest, but Ariadne had already agreed, Eames prattling off the address. She hung up with an excited 'good bye'.

"Eames," Arthur turned his phone off perhaps a little too aggressively. "Nobody knows where this apartment is-" He realised something. "Wait, does Ariadne live close?"

Eames laughed, delighted. "She's about thirty minutes away."

Arthur made a face. "Does everyone live in LA?"

Eames looked guilty. Well, guilty for him, which really meant he was smiling smaller than usual. "I may have told her to get an apartment here, when I first got in contact with you both." His eyebrows furrowed at the exasperated look on Arthur's face. "In my defense, I hadn't told her where you lived, just that you two were close."

"Jesus, at least it's just Ariadne."

"I wouldn't have told someone we didn't both trust where we live."

_We._

" _We_ , Eames?"

If Eames were solid his cheeks may have been splotched with heat. "I just-I assumed...I don't actually have an apartment, nor do I have any other belongings anywhere, I would have to stay in the in-between forever." The wrinkles around his eyes twitched, crookedly frowning. "There was Ariadne but she's not nearly as...well, you." He tried to smile in the face of Arthur's blank face.

"I've never shared my apartment with anyone before."

Eames actually laughed, even if it was a little nervous. "I've been staying here for the past year or so, Arthur, I think it's ours at this point."

Arthur frowned. "You can't even bring anything of yours here."

"That book is all I need, darling."

XXXX

"Ariadne, it's burning!" Arthur's face was set in concentration as he tried to turn down the burners.

He heard her battle cry before he actually saw her, hair and eyes wild as she looked mournfully down at the burnt pasta sauce. 

"I can't even make pasta," If it had been anyone else he would have scolded them for dirtying his kitchen only to ruin dinner. With Ariadne he merely smiled encouragingly and set the pot in the sink.

"Maybe I should get take-out."

She deflated, leaning against the kitchen island. "I'll buy,"

"That's only fair, love," Eames turned a mock sympathetic eye to her, probably would have sarcastically patted her back if able to.

She glared at him. "Jerk,"

He finally grinned. "Brat,"

XXXX

It was late. Or maybe early. Regardless, Arthur couldn't sleep again, Eames breaking his 'no interrupting sleep' promise.

"Arthur, all of this time together and I still don't know anything about you." Before Arthur could reply the ghost was going on. "Besides the obvious that is: not nearly as put together as you would like people to believe, cares deeply for people even though you'd never show it, secretly loves bright colours." He ticked each one off on a finger, his smile impossibly goofy.

"I thought we made a deal you wouldn't interrupt my sleep again, you know I always have a room at Cobb's." He didn't sound nearly as threatening as he would have liked around a yawn.

"Sorry, pet" He didn't look sorry in the least bit. Besides his incessant voice, the cold he brought kept a constant chill through Arthur's body.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone to sleep?"

"Promise."

Arthur glared.

"I promise!" Eames raised his hands before situating on his side, chin in an open palm. "Whenever you're ready."

Arthur sighed, eyes going hooded with exhaustion. "I didn't grow up with Mal."

That much Eames had already assumed. Arthur went on. "I grew up with our mother here, in America, and she grew up with our dad in Paris." He chewed on his bottom lip for a minute. "We had a weird childhood, barely even knew about each other, just that the other existed. I remember when I turned ten, all I wanted for my birthday was to meet her." His eyes crinkled with a smile, dimples deepening. "My mother thought it would have been a good idea, but her and my father still weren't on talking terms." He cleared his throat, not looking at Eames as he pulled the comforter closer up to his chin.

"So," Arthur sighed. "It wasn't until I started high school that finally Mal was able to get in touch with me. She had just graduated and was going to school at École d'Architecture, where our father works, and she wanted me to visit."

Eames found himself floating higher the less he paid attention to keeping himself in place. He moved back to his spot, instead on his back now, head turned to look out the window.

"I skipped a week of school to go to Paris with tickets she mailed me," Arthur laughed. "Our mother was pissed when I got back," Eames smiled softly. He had never met the woman but he liked to think she looked like Arthur, but was softer around the edges and liked to bake a lot.

"She had apparently known where I was 'cause our dad had called her, Mal and I couldn't believe they actually  _talked_."

Arthur was smiling, but he didn't go to speak any more, feeling his chest ache. He didn't think about Mal much anymore, it hurt too much.

"We hadn't known each other long when she died-" He broke off as his eyes stung. "I'd never felt closer to someone, though."

Eames wished he could hold Arthur so much in that moment. He finally turned to the man, moving so he hovered too close. Arthur shivered, the stark contrast of his hot tears and cold exterior shocked him slightly.

Eames passed a hand through Arthur's short hair, aching with the need to comfort the man in front of him.

"I'm sorry, darling," His voice was soft, only like it ever was when he teased. He wasn't teasing now. "She seemed like a lovely woman, much too good for Cobb."

A startled laugh choked out of Arthur, sniffling softly. Eames moved away finally, letting the warmth Arthur needed envelope him. 

XXXX

Eames had invited Ariadne over again, this time via ghost anchor-item jump. Arthur was still working on a term. 

"Ariadne, did you know Arthur and I have been to the beach?" Eames grin was wicked, gleeful at getting to reveal the trick to their friend.

" _Arthur_? At the  _beach?_ " She started laughing, before quickly choking on a giggle. " _Wait,_ how did  _Eames_ get to the beach? Did you try-" She turned an accusatory eye to the ghost. "I can't believe you tried it without me! I can't believe it worked," She looked far too overexcited. "Didn't you scare people?"

Arthur couldn't help the warmth that spread through him at her excitement. "We went early, so no one would be around."

Eames jumped in. "It was wonderful, I haven't been to the ocean since I was a child."

Arthur hadn't known that. He looked over at the other man as he hovered in a sitting position on his favourite plush chair. He realised he didn't really know much about the man in front of him either.

XXXX

"Shouldn't you be asleep, pet?" Eames smile was sharp. Arthur wondered why he didn't just leave if he didn't want him asking questions.

"Quid pro quo, Eames, come on, it'll probably help me fall asleep." He was teasing but it seemed to work.

The ghost rolled his eyes. "I'll have you know my life was built for the screen."

Arthur laughed, burrowing deeper into the blankets to contrast the blasting cold as Eames floated next to him. 

"Okay, let's see, what first..." Eames hummed, eyes to the ceiling, and finger pretending to tap his chin. "Ah, I know!" Eames moved as if getting comfortable. "My middle name is Tangerine."

Arthur barked out a harsh laugh, eyes wide in surprise. "It is not,"

"My parents were hippies,"

"They were  _not,_ "

"I've been vegetarian since I was born,"

"You  _have not_! I've seen you eat meat!"

"That was fake meat, pet, I'd never eat an actual animal." Eames frowned ridiculously.

Arthur humphed, but was still smiling. "We have something in common."

Eames gasped dramatically. "Your parents were hippies  _too_?"

The point man fell victim to the giggles.

XXXX

"Arthur," And there was only one person who said his name like that.

"Eames," Arthur's teeth chattered, shivering slightly, but with his eyes still closed. "Why are you waking me up, and why am I so goddamn cold?"

Instantly warmth enclosed him. A last shiver took over his body as he slowly peeled his eyes open.

"Arthur, your phone is going off, and I would have answered it for you but..." Eames looked regretfully at his transparent arms.

"Shit," The groggy man stumbled out of bed. He only had one phone for one thing; work. It had been a while since he'd actually taken any jobs.

Limping on his still asleep legs he leaned against the kitchen counter. "Yes?" He answered in his usual gruff manner.

"Arthur," The point man let out a leveled breath at the sound of Dom's voice.

"Cobb," He thought he heard Dom make a noise at that.

"Are you free for the next few weeks?"

"I don't have any other jobs lined up if that's what you're asking."

"I need someone to watch the kids."

Arthur raised an indignant eyebrow, even if Dom couldn't see him. "What about my mother?"

"She and Stephen are out of town, gone back to Paris for a little while, something about one of Mal's old apartments."

Arthur remembered that one; it had been a college graduation present from their parents. He sighed through puckered lips.

"Alright, when should I be over?"

"Eight tonight,"

Arthur hung up without saying anything else. It wasn't that he didn't love James and Phillipa, really, but by himself? Without his mother or Cobb? They could be a handful.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, sand trailing over his hands and down to the floor. It was only nine-thirty, plenty of time before he actually had to leave.

Eames voice startled him. "What was that about?"

Arthur turned to him with a tired smile. "I'm going to visit James and Phillipa."  
  
"Oh, can I come along?"  
  
Arthur's voice went deep with doubt. "Have you ever met them before?"  
  
Eames made a 'hm', grinning a bit. "Well, no, but I would love to mess with Cobb."  
  
Arthur actually snorted. "Cobb won't be there, he's working a job, I should only be gone a couple of weeks."  
  
"Arthur, you realise you can't actually leave me here by myself for two weeks? I'll go mad! I might just try and off myself,"  
  
The other man glared as he found his way back to bed. "Spend some time with Ariadne, I'm tired of getting texts from her asking how you are."

  
Eames smile turned soft. "She asks after me?"  
  
"Not the point, Eames! You're not coming,"  
  
Eames smile turned sickly sweet. And that was when Arthur knew he had lost.  
  
XXX  
  
"Arthur, why are my children telling me Eames tells the best stories? Or that it's _fun_ when they run right _through_ him?" Dom's voice was a furious whisper, face drawn tight.  
  
Arthur winced. "Listen, I lost the argument, I had to let him come."  
  
"I have so many questions I don't know where to start." Dom turned his back on Arthur, one hand on his hip, the other in his hair.

"In my defense, he was really good with the kids, he is good at telling bedtime stories." Arthur couldn't help the fond smile that spread over his face.  
  
"Wha-are you guys _together_?"  
  
Arthur frowned. "I don't know."  
  
"How can you even be _together_  if he's a ghost?"  
  
" _I don't know_ , Dom, we just...do what we do, it's none of your concern."  
  
Dom was silent for a moment, jaw ticking, face doing that odd thing where he looked like he was smiling but really he was just irritated with himself. "You know I thought you two were together, before all this." He looked to the side and waved a hand broadly.  
  
Arthur could feel his jaw moving. "Wouldn't be the first time you were wrong."

Dom looked at him sharply. "Just don't bring him around the kids anymore, he was bad enough when he was alive."

Arthur couldn't argue with that.

XXXX

When Arthur really thought about it, Eames made him feel foolishly young again. Made him remember what it was like back when his hair wasn't so greased, and his suits weren't so pressed. They had a safe place together, somewhere where they both were able to let go, no matter one of them already being dead. Arthur didn't want to lose that. He didn't want to imagine how quiet his apartment would be without Eames singing or humming or chattering non-stop. He didn't want to think about how unbearably hot it would be without the ghost there to chill him to the bone. He didn't want to think about what it was like before Eames was in his life, completely and totally in every part of it.

XXXX

"What are we?" His flesh rose as Eames hand skimmed just over. He couldn't stop his stomach from flexing a bit, the cold causing his breath to come quicker.

"Well, you see, I am _dead_ , you are  _alive_." He gave the man a transparent smile, not quite reaching his eyes.

They were at the beach again, sun just barely peeking over the horizon in the early morning. It was the only time they could actually come, when nobody would be around to see Eames. 

Arthur tilted his head to the side in order to see Eames sitting cross legged near his face. "Eames," He got that dangerous look on his face. "I'm serious."

Eames face smoothed over, looking out over the ocean. "I don't know, Arthur, I'm a ghost, what  _could_ we be?"

Arthur shrugged, something he rarely did. He felt out of his realm completely, life on a tilting axis since Eames came back into it. "Anything."

The ghost 'hm'ed. "I can never take you on an actual date, I can barely even leave the apartment."

Arthur shrugged again, a little less sure of himself. Eames continued, "I shouldn't even technically be here, Arthur, I'm defying the laws of physics by having manifested at all."

"I don't care," Arthur's voice was steady, despite feeling the unease in his gut. "You  _did_ come back, and that's all that matters."

Eames still wouldn't look at him.

"Look at me, Mr. Eames," There was a smile in his voice, the only thing pulling the former forger back. "When have you ever let something as silly as  _rules_ stop you before?"

Water crashed beyond them, creating a suction of sound loud enough to deafen them in the silence. Eames smiled back. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to say this was really fun to write. I had originally wanted it to be a bit longer but I just felt it naturally ended here and I had touched on all of the scenes I had randomly had as notes in my phone. I was carrying this ridiculous idea for literally months and now that I have off I found a few days to write it.
> 
> I actually used Eames' middle name and a lot of his backstory from eleveninches' story The Material Life of the Californian Suburb. if you haven't read it yet, you gooootta, it's so funny and good http://ofourown.org/works/333197


End file.
